Showing posts with label POEMS. Show all posts
Showing posts with label POEMS. Show all posts

Monday, August 11, 2008

DEATH COMES IN AS FOG (FOR RAY HUTTON--1998)

As death crept closer and closer  you faded  little by little

No more interest in Jim Lehrer's News Hour on TV
No more attention for Garrison Keeler
No more reaction to my reading aloud
No more disgust at noisy neighbor
Unable to eat without spilling 
Unable to swallow
Unable to talk
...

MY DEAR OLD EUROPE

When I was seventeen  you first seduced me with your antiquity. After four months I took reluctant leave, vowing to return.

Seven year later you sent a dashing young Swiss man to bring me to Zurich. I had come home!

Swiss jobs could not compete with American ones. After two years husband tore me away from you in the midst of your turmoil. You sent messages and emissaries--poor substitutes for your embrace.

A one-year Fulbright grant to Cambridge, England, eight years later, satisfied my passion temporarily. I immersed myself in your deep roots.

After seven years, a Ford Foundation grant to CERN took pity, brought me back to my adopted country for one year. I hiked again in  your exquisite landscapes.

The US Office of Naval Research extended that stay to two years. I luxuriated in culture-rich London.

The University of Geneva made my stay permanent. No longer in exile, I learned French, explored your countries.

Alas--after ten years, entanglement with re-married ex-husband made me resist your charm. I escaped to USA. Would I ever find such tasty fruit as yours anywhere else?

Three years later, now-divorced ex-husband, son, two granddaughters brought me back to you. What a joy to speak French and German again!

After seven more exquisite years, ex-husband died. Two daughters and two grandchildren beckoned me to California. Could I ride such trains as yours in the New World?

On a month's return pilgrimage three years later, I wept for one week, saying, "I may never see Europe again."  I was released from my fifty-year-long infatuation.

My passion spent and free from compulsion, I enjoyed an October visit with you, again seven years later.

Finally, after eight more years, I saw you for the last time.  I am now fully content with   pictures and visits from European relatives and friends. 

INVISIBLE GIFTS

Invisible gifts
are my favorite kind

Your encouraging word
on a dismal day

Your noticing in me
a hidden quality

Your forgiveness
for my thoughtlessness

No one can take these gifts
away from me

Saturday, August 9, 2008

SOME BREAKFASTS I HAVE KNOWN

In England   you get kidney pie, cold toast, and marmalade

In France   you find hot croissants, butter, jam, and cafe au lait

In Switzerland   you may taste creamy hot chocolate with warm rolls

(Let's not speak of Italy   where breakfast is an after-thought)

In Norway   a full smoergassbord is laid out

In Greece   eggs swim in olive oil

In Israel   fresh cucumbers and cool yogurt start the day

In China   water rice gruel and pickled meat work better that
their attempt at fried eggs and toast

In America   it depends on where you eat

At Motel 6   stale Danish and strong coffee greet you in the lobby
At the Radisson   a glorified continental breakfast awaits you, with granola,
fresh fruit, and orange juice thrown in

At IHOP   you break your fast with eggs and ham, hash browns, pancakes and syrup, toast and jam, and plenty of coffee

At home   I have Malt-O-Meal, raisin bread toast, and cereal coffee


fresh fruit

LOOKING AT A SMALL TREE KNOT

At first glance you are an ugly blackish lump
arid  shrunk
Next you are a crouching bunny rabbit
with long ears  hiding from Farmer Brown
Then I notice  your tiny striations
at different angles
like miniature rock layers showing geologic time
Your rough surface irritates my finger
you seem to be porous   about to fall apart
I shall be careful with  you
But you are shedding fragments
messing up my paper as I write
I brush the crumbs away
I put  you down
admire your fragile intricate structure
gasp at the reckless extravagance of nature

A FLOWER CALLED WORRY

From this rose
petals plucked
now set free
waft away
worries all
one by one

DREAM GODDESS

Slim smooth snake, rising from tall grasses,
Do you bring temptation, or a store of wisdom?
I am not Eve, condemned, succumbing to your wiles.
I am the Cretan goddess, choosing to play with you.
Dance with me--let your energy insinuate my body,
Loosen my joints, permeate my muscles, liberate my spirit.
Twisting, swaying, undulating, abandoning into ecstasy--both of us free.

Thursday, July 3, 2008

LAUGHTER IS LIKE A FEATHER

A tinkle of laughter flits around
upside-down  side-ways
now here  now there
tickling my funny bone
widening my grin